


plnt footing

by kamukura (Kamu)



Series: Never Would I Ever [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crack, Gen, Plants, robot do not have the gnder, what iwa chan fels for the plant is entirely platonic, you can seductively plant a seed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 04:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5695189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/kamukura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>mechaplantluver:</b> this dumbass robot just fell from the sky and ruined everything??? helpme from my suffering</p><p><b>PlantFucker70minus1:</b> That is such a coincidence. I also happen to know of a robot who fell at an untimely elevated place to the ground. Is this related?</p><p><b>mechaplantluver:</b> wtf mayb</p><p><b>PlantFucker70minus1:</b> It would be extremely helpful if it happens to be the same android. It's vital to the survival of the local gardening club I head.</p><p><b>mechaplantluver:</b> dude, that reminds me, our names r too similar? And your responses are lightning fast, what kind of reception r u getting???</p><p><b>PlantFucker70minus1:</b> If I had to say, then it is merely the location of where I'm receiving it. There are advantages to living at the top of the world.</p><p><b>mechaplantluver:</b> u live on a mountain, nice</p><p><b>PlantFucker70minus1:</b> What's a mountain</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. what the hap is fukcning

**Author's Note:**

> Props to the skype chat group to helping me birth this Robokawa AU. This is completely different from my style. I don't do enough Crack writing. Not like, the eating stuff. Please take this with a grain of whatever powdery whole foods substance you like to substitute.

Iwa chan is having such a good time with his plants in the soil patch.

He likes plants? What’s wrong with that?

He first liked encasing himself in soil. Yes, he first liked it, end of story. In order to love plants, you have to _be_ the plant. What could be better than that?

Also, he started burying himself because of an ancient book on plants he found in the piled up junk at the base of the river he lives by. It’s so interesting. He learned all his gardening techniques from this book. It is sacred. He keeps it locked in a cabinet, safe from harm.

Today is different from what he usually does. Today, Iwa chan is supposed to dig up the dead roots of his garden and lay them back on top like a blanket to keep the soil nice and safe from the cold of winter. It’s like tucking in his beloved earth. Nice.

He says _supposed to_ because some dumbass robot literally fell in it? What the fuck. Rude. Couldn’t they fall like a meter away from it and mess up that pretty mug of theirs? He says as much to the robot, and then the robot goes “So rude!” Yeah, right. When did it start raining pieces of trash?

The robot says they fell from a city in the sky. Iwa chan doesn’t believe them, because that’s just a dream people made up ages ago. The robot insists it’s true.

Iwa chan shakes his head and turns his back on the robot. The robot tries following him but Iwa chan shouts “Don’t come over here, you nude asshole!” The robot apparently has selective hearing because it keeps coming and dragging more of the messed up garden with him, tainting the pieces of soil with their nudity. When Iwa chan looks down, he notices a very prominent something between their bare legs.

“Keep away, pervert!”

The robot whines, literally _whines_ about android discrimination and how he should be arrested. Iwa chan, straight-faced and serious, goes “Fuck the police” and plods off toward the warehouse he had lived in for his past twenty-something years. He’s lost count at this point.

Tomorrow morning comes, and Iwa chan is prepared for another day of his regular routine. When he slides down the ladder from his living quarters to the lower work and kitchen area, he finds someone had already raided his supplies and apparently snuck into his stash of clothes.

The robot waves wearing an old faded shirt of Iwa chan’s and some tight fitted pants that Iwa chan knows are slightly too big on him, but seem to fit right on the robot. Iwa chan feels angry and flustered about this.

“Don’t upgrade my TV without my permission,” is the first thing out of Iwa chan’s mouth.

The robot protests in that signature whine of theirs, saying all of Iwa chan’s stuff are centuries old and look like they could break with a gust of wind. Iwa chan doesn’t care, because it’s vintage. And could the robot keep their hands off the VCR? Thanks.

“Whyyy?” the robot complains, expertly throwing a screwdriver over their shoulder into the box of tools.

“It’s history,” Iwa chan says, putting stuff back where they were. “You can’t replace that.”

The robot hums, considering his answer with a seriousness that Iwa chan finds out of place. He casts a weirded out look at the robot before plopping down into one of the stools surrounding a table he placed for planning and reading.

When Iwa chan gestures to the stool across from him, the robot perks up and gladly sits down. Iwa chan places his elbows on the table, straight to business.

“Who threw you away?”

The robot startles and refuses to look at him, trying to hide their nervousness with a smile.

Iwa chan isn’t having it.

“Don’t pull that masked angst shit with me. Look around, this place is the dumpiest of the dump. You just landed on the remains of what I consider a thriving section of this world.”

The robot takes shorter than he thought they would take to give him an answer.

“I wasn’t thrown away. Somebody wanted me gone.”

Iwa chan nods, satisfied with this.

“How fast does your city travel? Does it have any routes or courses it routinely follows?”

After a brief moment of silence, the robot replies, face darkening and usually high-pitched voice lowered.

“You want me gone, too.”

But Iwa chan is shaking his head.

“Dumbass, I asked because I want to get you back home. That imaginary sky city _is_ your home, right?”

He doesn’t get a rebuttal, because the robot had already begun to tremble.

“Are humans always this nice? I thought all of you were an incompetent race. Is it just the surface humans who are like you? Or perhaps...you’ve fallen in love with me? Sorry, my heart already belongs to my one true love, the mirror—”

That day, Iwa chan attends the burial of Oikawa Tooru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbc


	2. the fckening iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** omg that's so funny! I know a guy (can't say that beautiful person's name here, both of you would taint it) who experienced that exact same thing recently!
> 
>  **mechaplantluver:** who tf
> 
>  **PlantFucker70minus1:** Are you [WORD REDACTED DUE TO VIOLATION OF FORUM USER PRIVACY POLICY]?
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** what are you talking about PlantFucker (LOL)? I think you have the wrong person, PlantFucker (LMAO) : ))))
> 
>  **PlantFucker70minus1:** No, I'm certain you're [WORD REDACTED DUE TO VIOLATION OF FORUM USER PRIVACY POLICY].
> 
>  **PlantFucker70minus1:** ?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic progress policy: always write in the wee hours of the morning. imagination gets interesting

Iwa chan puts Oikawa Tooru to work, and immediately receives a rebellion in trepidation.

The robot doesn’t look to have worked a day in his life. He seems content to lay around and stare as Iwa chan does everything, humming a tune and occasionally flipping through one of the books Iwa chan had on his shelves.

When Iwa chan takes off his top shirt and ties it around his waist, Oikawa whistles, mumbling something like, “Never did I ever consider digging flannel on farm boys…” and continuing his whistling whenever Iwa chan bends over to pick up stray detritus and blown away pieces of debris. This goes on until the sun hits the sky at 45 degrees, which indicates the middle of the afternoon.

Oikawa skips over to him as he takes a break against the fence surrounding his garden.

“I forgive you for burying me six feet under.”

Iwa chan mumbles how he doesn’t want an asshat’s forgiveness and leans further away from him. Oikawa follows him like a magnet.

“How do you plan on taking me home?”

This makes him angry. Oikawa always gets a kick out of making him angry. It’s like a reflex to get angry at him.

“First of all, I’ll need you to be serious and tell me what I asked you this morning.”

Oikawa pouts, dissatisfied.

“You’re no fun to tease, Iwa-chan.”

The names comes out suddenly. Iwa chan snaps his head to gaze at him, eyes wide in surprise.

Oikawa smiles, then.

“You were cute as a kid.”

Iwa chan knows what he’s talking about.

“Don’t look at my family photos without asking, Asskawa.”

“You were a wild child, weren’t you? Always getting your hands dirty.”

Oikawa’s eyes go lidded and he leans in. Iwa chan doesn’t back away.

There is a gross slap.

“Why?!” the robot cries, pushing Iwa chan’s hand away and wiping the side of his face.

Iwa chan waves the browning wet stalk like a warning.

“I took this as an incentive to get you familiar with plants,” Iwa chan says, “since it looked like you wanted to join me in the trash pile.”

Oikawa responds by dragging the ends of his shirt (Iwa chan’s shirt) and wiping his cheek roughly with it. Iwa chan is given a reluctant view of the dumbass robot’s abs and happy trail (robots had happy trails? Robots had details like small hairs?? Robots had things like sculpted six packs?).

The robot grumbles all the way inside the warehouse, stumbling to mope in the corner.

Iwa chan finds taking care of the robot a hassle, but the responsibility of getting rid of this robot before it starts getting attached to the ground pushes him to take action. If there really is a city in the sky, this robot doesn’t belong here.

Oikawa needs to go.

Iwa chan urges from up his second story room for Oikawa to put on the rubber boots he has propped besides the door. When he doesn’t hear an answer, Iwa chan looks over the edge.

The dumbass robot is gone.

He slides down the ladder and looks at the scribbled note on the counter.

“Bye bai, Iwa-chan, I’ll be going now!! Thnx for everything, tee hee”

Iwa chan grinds his teeth and feels a vein threaten to burst on his forehead.

_“The stupid dumbass robot.”_

Iwa chan doesn’t have to go far until he sees the robot come into view.

He approaches and is prepared to give him a good punch to the gut, until he notices how _still_ Oikawa is. Iwa chan turns his attention to where he has been staring fixedly at, mouth propped open.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa turns his face but doesn’t move his eyes, “what _is this?”_

Iwa chan looks out over the field, anger falling away as he gazes at his one true love.

“It’s a field of weeds. They’re _taraxacum japonicum.”_

“What is it really called?”

“Dandelions.”

“Weeds…how can such things be so beautiful? Your book said weeds kill things, don’t they?”

Iwa chan looks at him, arms crossed as they watch the shadow of clouds jump and glide across the far reaching yellow field lazily.

“It’s not noticeable but they do have a negative impact. They spread really fast and push natural species out of their homes and kill the soil and environment.” Iwa chan watches Oikawa from the side. “They’re much like humans that way.”

“I said was sorry.”

Oikawa must be referring to when he said humans were an incompetent race. Iwa chan shrugs and says he doesn’t mind.

“It only takes a strain to get rid of weeds, but...they’re nice to look at, aren’t they?”

Oikawa nods. He nods furtively like he understands all too well.

Iwa chan turns back toward the warehouse, suddenly uncomfortable with the atmosphere.

“We’re leaving in a few days. I’m almost done making preparations for winter, so we’ll have all the time we need to get you back home.”

Iwa chan has his back to him, but he feels the burn of Oikawa’s gaze trailing him until he disappears inside.

He falls onto his bed, energy depleted for the day. He scratches the back of his head and flips over, staring at the ceiling of artificial stars.

Dumbass robots.

Oikawa’s awed face won’t disappear from his sight.

Iwa chan doesn’t see Oikawa the next few nights, but he guesses where he is the first time he tried looking for him.

Robots are enigmas. That must be it.

When Oikawa returns to the warehouse after another day of gazing out at the field, Iwa chan waits on his solar-powered bike.

“Where are we going?”

Iwa chan revs up the engine as Oikawa sits behind him, the sidecar filled with all that they need.

“We’re visiting a friend.”


	3. seein einstein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **mechaplantlover:** ok wtf is going on
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** hmm, i dont know??? maybe PlantFucker (LOL) is just a rule breaker?
> 
>  **mechaplantlover:** also, who tf are you? why are you barging in on our conversation?
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** how rude, you heathen! I, too, also happen to be a plant lover ; )) we have so much in common already ; DDDD
> 
>  **mechaplantlover:** i think you need to leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> watch clips of "Im Scared" game in increments, and you will understand oikawa's terror (I recommen markiplier's playthru)
> 
> also, sorry bo but really, he does look like one, doesn't he?! right??!?

The thing is, Iwa chan doesn’t have many friends? But, sometimes, he meets people when he goes out and searches for washed up junk along the river that sustains his junk pile of a home.

Before meeting that person, Iwa chan used to think he was pretty smart about surviving on his own. After meeting them, he concludes there are many more amazing people in the world. His perspective was too narrow. Knowing them gave him that feeling.

Sometimes, he’s glad he only sees what he can with his own two eyes. If he saw everything there was to see in the universe, he wouldn’t be able to handle the heaviness of all that knowledge.

That’s why they’re going to see that person, he and Oikawa. Since Oikawa won’t tell him where his sky city is going, then it’s only natural Iwa chan would go to them for help.

“Who is this mysterious person you speak of so highly?”

Oikawa complains. He complains a lot. If he’s not complaining, he tries to get answers out of Iwa chan, to no avail. If the robot won’t give out anything about himself, then Iwa chan won’t either.

When that doesn’t work, Oikawa points to random plants they pass by and animals that have deemed it safe to graze.

Iwa chan doesn’t give him answers at first, until Oikawa pouts and does it loudly. By loudly, he means hitting Iwa chan’s shoulder and blowing into his ear. Iwa chan gives in and says their classifications first and then their actual names, only to shut up Oikawa for the rest of the trip.

They approach a forest. They set out in the dark of night, but now it’s close to dusk. Oikawa peers over his shoulder inquisitively.

“I hope you’re not afraid of the dark.”

Oikawa has a short moment to collect himself before Iwa chan accelerates and dives into the dense darkness.

The robot shrieks. The robot flails. The robot hits Iwa chan. Iwa chan shoves an elbow behind him. Judging by the whoosh of air by his ear, he guesses he accurately hit under his ribs. Oikawa stays quiet and clings to Iwa chan, until something flutters over their heads and Oikawa is back at it again with the flailing.

“Shut up, will you? They already know we’re here. It’s rude to make so much noise.”

Oikawa stills. He pokes at Iwa chan’s cheek.

“Who is ‘they’?”

Iwa chan slows the bike down and switches on the headlights. He points where at the far end of its beam, a shadow stands.

“Them,” Iwa chan says, and he has a second to brace himself before Oikawa screams.

Iwa chan kills the engine and turns around to shove a hand over his mouth.

“Prince Iwa,” a voice greets. “Prince Iwa’s guest.”

Oikawa stops screeching to stare at the person who had neared in the blink of an eye. The figure holds a single green lantern, highlighting their dark intelligent eyes and ink hair.

“Hey, Akaashi.” Iwa chan grins at them over his shoulder. “Don’t mind this dumbass. Lead the way.”

Akaashi nods and goes on ahead. Iwa chan removes his hand and starts the motorbike, following at an easy pace.

Oikawa stares, watching as Akaashi’s silhouette fades with the sway of the lantern.

“I am simultaneously terrified and amazed,” Oikawa whispers, clutching the material of Iwa chan’s jacket tightly.

“Wait until you see Bokuto.”

Akaashi and Bokuto’s house is smack dab in the middle of a clearing. It’s winter here with fluffy snow fluttering with each kick. No one questions it.

“Is that anthropomorphic owl Bokuto?” Oikawa asks as he slides off the seat.

Iwa chan frowns, parking the bike and anchoring it to a nearby tree.

“You’re not wrong.”

Akaashi, in faded jeans and a black sweater, hugs the ball of feathers waiting for them on the porch.

“I’m back,” Akaashi says.

The ball grows a pair of arms and encases Akaashi into its gray, downy mass.

“It felt like for-feather!” the ball cries.

Akaashi spits out a stray feather. “I had to bring back our guests,” Akaashi explains, ignoring Bokuto’s pun.

The mass wriggles and Bokuto finally shows himself. He is now a ball of feathers with a head and arms.

“Ah, yes. Prince Iwa.” Bokuto waddles to meet them. “Glad to see you again, man!”

“Likewise,” Iwa chan says down at him, suppressing a grin. He frowns when he catches the end of Oikawa’s muttering off to the side. Something about Bokuto looking like “someone’s attempt at humanizing a Furby.”

“Bokuto-san, get dressed while I show them inside,” Akaashi says, ushering Oikawa and Iwa chan through the door into a cozy looking room lined from wall to wall with books and the wood floor covered in a lush carpet that wasn’t there the last time he visited.

“I know only you can handle my natural state, Akaashi!” Bokuto waddles into a separate room like a penguin that needs to pee.

“He’s funny,” Oikawa giggles as he plops into a nearby seat across from Iwa chan.

“I’ll tell him you think so,” Akaashi says, coming up from behind them with a thick book in their hands.

“He won’t get mad?” Oikawa stares at Akaashi as they sit down, gaze intense.

“He loves attention. Bokuto-san rarely ever feels anger.” Akaashi dog ears a page and closes the book. They look up at Oikawa, eyes looking more green in the candlelight. “Is there something you want to say, Prince Iwa’s guest?”

Oikawa sighs, propping his chin on a palm, “You’re so pretty.”

Akaashi blinks. Bokuto, somewhere on the other side of the wall, makes an indeterminate noise, also like a Furby. (Dammit, Oikawa.)

“I’ll tell my maker they did a good job,” Akaashi replies.

It’s Oikawa’s turn to blink, tilting his head in puzzlement. Before he can open his mouth, Bokuto struts in with clothes matching Akaashi (without the sleeves) and entirely featherless, making one last mating call.

“Welcome to our humble abode, Prince Iwa, Prince Iwa’s guest!” Bokuto announces, settling into the spot next to Akaashi. He reaches for the book and Akaashi slaps his hand away.

“You’ll cut yourself,” Akaashi warns as Bokuto rubs his smacked hand.

Bokuto decrees Akaashi as official page turner and huddles closer to them, ignoring the way Oikawa and Iwa chan stare.

“Can I ask why ‘Prince’?” Oikawa whispers with a teasing smile.

“It’s not funny,” Iwa chan grumbles. He’s reluctant to tell the reason. Bokuto beats him to it.

“We call him that since he’s loved by all the animals in the forest! Even the untameable beasts bow to him. He’s soooo cool.”

“Oh, really? Tell me more.” Oikawa glances at Iwa chan with a smirk.

Bokuto is glad to continue. Akaashi sifts a hand through his hair as he speaks. They come up with a few feathers and flicks them away to fall sadly to the floor. Iwa chan notices the thing they had stepped on was not carpet, but a thick layer of feathers—Bokuto’s molted feathers.

Iwa chan is glad to have worn his usual boots. He hopes Oikawa does not notice the small detail. Sadly, the green and black trainers do nothing to alert Oikawa. Darn those light feathers.

Bokuto is still talking. “Prince Iwa swooped in and saved Akaashi when they were caught in a kinky net of foxfire,” Bokuto’s eyes are wide and sparkly as he recalls it as if he were the one who was saved, “Strong, handsome, reliable...he is so hashtag _goals.”_

“He said that outloud,” Oikawa says. “Does he realize what kinky means?”

Iwa chan nods, “That he did. And no, I hope not for the context of this conversation because kinky is the furthest thing I want to imagine of our first meeting.”

Akaashi turns to them, as if remembering something and filtering out what’s wrong with their conversation, “If you have a cellular device, Bokuto-san has a hotspot. The password is 0w15.”

“We’re in the middle of the woods?!” Oikawa exclaims, but he digs in his jeans (Iwa chan’s jeans) and fishes out a cyan flip phone he had managed to hide from Iwa chan the past week. He ignores Iwa chan’s glare.

“OMG,” Oikawa squeals, staring at the bars incredulously, “How?!”

“Magic.” “An access point.”

Iwa chan and Oikawa blink as Akaashi and Bokuto speak over each other.

“Interesting,” is all that Oikawa has to say.

Iwa chan can overlook Oikawa’s access to the internet for now. He opens his mouth to speak, but yet again, he finds himself beaten by none other than Akaashi.

“Haruko,” Akaashi says, looking pointedly at Oikawa.

Oikawa lifts a shoulder, hiding his surprise by tapping away at the keypad. Iwa chan doesn’t know who he’s texting, but he has a mind to lean over and smack the robot upside the head for the casual dismissal when one of their hosts is talking to him.

“What does that mean?” Iwa chan asks instead.

“The miracle in the sky, duh!” Bokuto cuts in. He beams proudly but falters when Iwa chan raises an eyebrow blankly. “You’ve never heard of the city that floats along with the dreams of earthly humans and androids alike?”

Oikawa takes this time to pipe in, “The blockhead didn’t believe me when I told him it existed! My home is two of its kind with such worldwide fanfare all those decades ago, and Iwa-chan doesn’t even know that Haruko is based in this island country or that Interhigh is based internationally!” He thrusts a finger at Iwa chan. “He’s a hermit!”

“Hey!” Iwa chan protests.

“No spitting or spatting,” Bokuto placates, looking pretty smug to be the person to intervene, “It’s okay, Prince Iwa, we understand.” He smiles brightly at Oikawa. “Mr. Android, you don’t know a thing about our Prince, so please don’t jump the gun? Thanks.”

Oikawa looks affronted for a moment before releasing the tension in his shoulders. “Fine,” he mutters, “but it’s only because Iwa-chan never tells me anything about himself.”

“True,” Bokuto agrees easily, grinning at the both of them, “This is why knowledge is important! Sharing is caring, everyone. Repeat it after me!”

Iwa chan and Oikawa look at him like he can’t be serious. Akaashi raises a halfhearted fist and goes, “Sharing is caring,” monotonously at Bokuto’s urging. They repeat this until Akaashi tells him to stop.

“Now, children, knowledge may be shared but never for free,” Bokuto pinches his thumb and index finger together, “You both need to pay up.”

Iwa chan had prepared for this and pulls out the leather bag he had strapped to his belt. Oikawa narrows his eyes at Iwa chan suspiciously as he hands it over to Akaashi.

“Well done,” Akaashi approves as they open the flap and peer inside.

Bokuto leans over and brightens, flashing a thumb to Iwa chan, “Shit, man, what did you do to get this in top condition? Which plants did you have to sell?”

“The dahlias and purple daisies,” Iwa chan admits, pressing at his eyes. Oh god, he would not tear up, not in front of them and especially not in front of Oikawa.

“Oh geez, dude...this more than makes up for what I’m about to tell you, so I’ll be nice and cut to the chase,” Bokuto says, watching Iwa chan reign in on his loss. “Akaashi, if you would?”

Akaashi promptly (carefully) puts aside the bag and opens the book centered on the table between them, flipping to the page they had dog-eared earlier.

“Let’s see…” Bokuto digs his nose in and reads over the text, “Yup, this definitely sounds like something I said!”

“You can’t read kanji,” Akaashi interrupts, taking the book from him and placing it in their lap. “Bokuto-san has visions that he forgets immediately after. I write them as he tells me so neither of us will forget.”

"I can write at least  _one_ kanji..." Bokuto grumbles.

“How can he have visions if he’s—” Oikawa's teeth clack when Akaashi sends him a sharp glance. “Okay…”

“Torino…” Akaashi stops and squints. “No, this reads Karasuno. Does this ring a bell?”

Oikawa narrows his eyes. “It might...depends on what you mean by that dreaded place.”

“I mean, he is your only chance to get back to Haruko.”

“He? Who is ‘he?’?” Iwa chan asks as Oikawa sinks deeper into his chair with the strongest pout he’s ever seen on the robot. The scrunchy nose is almost charming if not for the glare he’s sending at the book in Akaashi’s hands.

“Tobio-chan, an eighteenth generation of the Z-R series, pronounced like you would the German letters.” Oikawa looks over at Iwa chan. “He’s the same model as me and a comparably flawless and improved version, too.”

Some things click into place. Iwa chan sees Oikawa’s deal with being “thrown away” now, at least a little better than before.

“So what?” Iwa chan knows a sense of inferiority won’t bring Oikawa down like this.

“So...there’s no choice but to go to him. That is why we’re here, hm?” Oikawa walks out the room, waving a hand flippantly with his cellphone in the other. Iwa chan notes he still has yet to recognize the feather carpet.

“Sorry about him,” Iwa chan says, standing up and bowing.

“No prob, ha ha!” Bokuto laughs and claps Iwa chan on the back. “Glad that guy has a sensitive nerve in his body! Jealousy is a thing you can only learn through certain experiences.”

Iwa chan thinks so, too. He has never had the opportunity to feel emotion strong enough to want to take something away from others and secure it as his. Sure, there’s bartering, but it’s equal exchange. Iwa chan has never felt moments of weakness because of someone or something that was in a higher place than he was. Solitude does that to a person.

“I better go after him,” Iwa chan sighs, carefully trudging through the feathers.

“Please do,” Akaashi advises. “He’s dying to ask what you gave us.”

Bokuto grins, “I’m still amazed, Prince Iwa. I heard they only have digital copies of Miku’s Hall of Fame songs.”

“How you managed to get her top 18 on CD floors me.” Akaashi’s eyes sharpen. “Please tell us your secret.”

“Not telling,” Iwa chan says with a shake of his head. At the door, he says over his shoulder, “I still prefer Nightcore over the robot idol.”

He tails out of there as they both gasp in indignant shock, not wanting to start a debate on his personal preference and their worshipped idolism.

Any other day, he would stay.

Today, he needs to find his robot. He has the begrudging feeling Oikawa will do something utterly stupid like—

—like, taking his fucking _bike_ for a joyride and leaving Iwa chan behind.

“Dumbass scrunchy-nosed robots!”


	4. Suprisee mecha fukcrr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** dont be like that! I can tell already that you're a grumpy grump : (
> 
>  **mechaplantluver:** you winky faced me, i am cautious and ready to report you
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** i bet you're fun at parties hheh
> 
>  **PlantFucker70minus1:** Forum user @xXxPlantAnglexXx who I believe I know in real life, where are you right now?
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** what makes u think you kno me PlantFucker (LMFAO) : ))))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i updated 2 fics within 12 hors of each other i feel elationi but also simultaneously exhaustion and a fals e sense o completion so There midterms

Akaashi and Bokuto wait on the porch as Iwa chan lumbers back with the bags that had fallen off the side car.

“We don’t have any suitable transportation for you,” Akaashi informs. “We can, however, provide you with a direction.”

“Where?”

Bokuto points to the other side of the clearing, “He went north toward Karasuno.”

“Does he plan on going back?” Iwa chan frowns.

“No,” Akaashi says, “but it seems like he wants to finish his end of the deal. He hasn’t provided us with anything new.”

“It’s simple, though?” Iwa chan feels frustrated. “He could have introduced himself with his name!”

“He’s the type to skip over those things,” Bokuto chimes. “His character won’t let him receive help one-sidedly.”

“Asskawa, making things more complicated than they already are,” Iwa chan mutters as he hefts the bags onto his back and sets off toward Oikawa’s destination.

“It was nice seeing you. Come back whenever you feel like, yeah?” Bokuto waves from Akaashi’s arms.

Iwa chan nods and is ready to turn back when Akaashi calls after him.

“Tell Oikawa-san to visit when he’s in a better place.”

Iwa chan casts one last meaningful glance at them, unsurprised they had already known who Oikawa was.

Knowledge was a heavy choice to keep. At least the two had each other to share the burden, Iwa chan thinks. 

He enters the dark embrace of the forest.

Oikawa better be ready for an ass-kicking on top of a lecture when Iwa chan is through with him.

He ventures in the forest for a while before he senses the telltale signs of a crash. It’s the mood of the trees and the burnt smell in the air that gets him running.

This section gets some moonlight through the edges of the treetops so he spots the white of Oikawa’s shirt and the blue of his jeans as he runs from something fast and silent on his heels.

Oh, what the  _ hell. _

Iwa chan lets the bags fall and bursts forth into run.

He intercepts Oikawa and the thing, stopping the animal with a kick to its spotted flank.

It rebounds fast, leaping at Iwa chan’s throat with the intent to kill.

Iwa chan smirks as he throws it off with a spin.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries behind him.

As Iwa chan circles for a roundhouse kick, the animal lunges for Iwa chan’s thrown out leg, large teeth shining in the dim light.

Oikawa squeaks at the sound of impact. After hearing nothing but wounded growling, Oikawa peeks out from his fingers and is shocked at what he sees.

“You thought you had one on me, huh?” Iwa chan says, shaking off the remains of his leather boot that had been ripped. “Surprise, motherfucker.”

The animal backs away as it and Oikawa gawk at the silver gleam of Iwa chan’s leg in place of the plain black leather that was now in tattered remains in the animal’s mouth.

“Iwa-chan is part-robot?!” Oikawa exclaims, sounding way too excited and amazed for Iwa chan’s comfort.

Iwa chan lowers his leg and ignores Oikawa.

He stares down the animal as he approaches. He kneels before it, circling its neck with a hand until he finds what he needs. With a twist, he unhooks the button-sized device from the depths of its fur and stands.

The animal shakes itself, seemingly recovered yet cautious of Iwa chan. He turns his back on it and doesn’t see how it bows at his retreating figure before disappearing into the spaces between the trees.

“Iwa-chan, what are you?”

He had almost forgotten about the robot.

“Bring me to the motorbike, and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

Oikawa obeys with a shaky, “Yessir!” and starts toward the smell of ozone.

Iwa chan inspects the bike where something heavy like a tree had dented the protective covering of the motor. Everything looks fine besides the smell, but that can be fixed as soon as the sun comes up and he can get a better look at it.

As they’re hoisting the remaining bags onto the roughed up side car, Iwa chan lets the silence drag on between them. He knows Oikawa has a lot to say, maybe something about his reasons for taking off, a comment about Iwa chan never mentioning his prosthetics, or how sorry he is.

Iwa chan won’t hear it.

They get on the motorbike, starting it up with a few tries. It chokes back to life and they’re able to head north—together, this time (minus the loss of a good leather boot).

“Don’t do that again,” Iwa chan says later once the sun winks over the edge of the horizon due east.

The robot says nothing, but the tight hold on his chest is enough.


	5. fruen in hi places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PlantFucker70minus1:** I sent my subordinates to escort you. Did you intentionally jump?
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** uugh! stop bugging me i don't want ur fancy stuff you richy rich eco bot!!!! im talking to mecha guy here  >:^(
> 
>  **xXxPlantAnglexXx:** ....hello?

Making a quick stop is necessary, Iwa chan feels. Oikawa doesn’t think so.

“As I said, stop burying me!” the robot cries from the half filled hole in the ground.

Iwa chan comments how the robot didn’t think to ask why he had asked him to strip, says it’s his fault for not suspecting him in the first place.

“I thought you simply wanted to bask in the purity of my naked body!”

Iwa chan shovels another mound of soil onto Oikawa. The robot squawks.

“If you can believe, this is a destresser for me so deal with it.”

Oikawa stops flailing and stares at Iwa chan filling in the hole. It continues until only Oikawa’s head is left. Iwa chan announces he’s done, and the robot assesses his newfound connection within the earth. Oikawa looks like a cabbage.

“It actually feels pretty cool. Surprisingly.”

Iwa chan nods. He knows that feeling, too.

“Ah, but I’m kinda itchy near my butt, I hope nothing enters it—”

Iwa chan drops the discarded clothes onto the robot’s head, if only to save himself from the imagery.

Oikawa grumbles about half-mecha farm boys and tsundere, judgmental, discriminating attitudes. Iwa chan goes ahead and relaxes under the shade of a tree that had somehow managed to survive in the middle of nowhere. He found earlier this tree was their saving grace. It’s the first time in more than a day he’s gotten the time to rest, excluding the brief welcome in Akaashi and Bokuto’s home.

“What is this anyway?” Oikawa snaps, accepting his state of burial for now.

Iwa chan looks up at the low hanging branches bowing to gravity and the strain of age.

“I’ve heard of a tree like this. It’s on the opposite side of the world and apparently it’s a species that doesn’t belong there. Somehow, it adapted to its environment and made itself thrive on the abandoned aquifers dozens of meters below it.”

Oikawa thinks on that for a bit.

“That tree really wanted to live, didn’t it?”

Iwa chan thinks, of course it does. It’s the reason why he and Oikawa are there right now, travelling to a place they aren’t even sure would welcome them with open arms. Once Oikawa returns to live his sky city, Iwa chan can move on with his life.

The sun reaches 45 degrees from the east, signaling mid-morning. Iwa chan stands and brushes off the stray leaves and grass off his lap and heads toward the motorbike.

“Uh, help me?” Oikawa says.

Iwa chan casts a glance down at him.

“We both know you can get yourself out of there.”

Oikawa sighs as if he can’t believe he just said that. He steps out of the soil plot like he was stepping out of a pool, not solid earth.

“Iwa-chan, it’s manners which you obviously lack,” he says, right before earning a reprimanding smack to get a move on and please, _please_ get dressed already.

They’re on the road again when Iwa chan feels Oikawa has something more to say. Somehow, he can tell by the way his arms tighten around his stomach and how he stays unusually quiet.

“Spit it out before I change my mind.”

Oikawa flinches and Iwa chan feels his extreme pout on his shoulder blade.

“Those two...why were they trying to hide the truth?”

Iwa chan considers this. So Oikawa had noticed, judging from the few times Akaashi kept cutting Oikawa off.

“They’re happy that way, I guess.” He says what he thinks is a neutral answer. It’s most fitting for them.

Oikawa sighs.

“I can tell when someone’s lying, and the pretty one lied once to my face.”

Iwa chan knows. He could tell from the first time they met and the moment he saw Bokuto.

“I’m telling you this now since you’ll probably never meet them again, but don’t ever say or do anything to imply Akaashi is anything other than a robot and Bokuto is anything other than a clairvoyant human.”

It’s for the best, so Oikawa hums in agreement, yet he still has one more to ask.

“What’s the owl’s full name?”

Iwa chan doesn’t think this is a strange question.

“Bokuto Koutarou, I remember he said.”

He’s surprised when Oikawa chuckles.

“Well, that explains some things.”

When Iwa chan glances back, Oikawa has a gentle smile on his face.

“A real smile; how rare.”

Oikawa’s smile falls and he blinks up at him.

“You can tell?”

Iwa chan turns back around and stubbornly faces ahead.

“It’s intuition.”

The robot pokes at his side, causing him to jump because the place under his ribs is a _sensitive spot_. He casts a half-hearted glare over his shoulder.

“Is it also your intuition that’s guiding us?” the robot asks.

Iwa chan may be good at reading people, but he isn’t omniscient like the forest pair. The robot gives him too much credit.

“Nah, a friend of mine lives in Karasuno. I visited once, which is enough.”

Oikawa doesn’t question further. Occasionally, he speaks up to ask about a passing animal or landmark, but otherwise, he is quiet. Iwa chan almost wishes he could fill the air with his nonsensical chatter so he wouldn’t have to feel the press of the robot’s blunt nails through his shirt and the extent of his chest on his back.

“We’re here.”

He can feel the robot lean back to peer up and up and _up_ until he’s forcing Iwa chan to grip the brakes of the motorbike so they won’t fall off.

“There is no way this is Karasuno.”

Iwa chan unwinds Oikawa’s linked fingers, pushing Oikawa onto his butt. He’s been here a few times, but the sheer mass and size overwhelms him every time.

“This is Datekou.”

The robot lays flat so he can stare where the gigantic monument—there’s no other word to call it—rises skyward and disappears into the clouds. Oikawa turns his head one way and then the other, assessing where the monstrosity stretches endlessly in both directions.

“Iwa-chan, what on earth is this?”

He crosses his arms and observes the unique wonder to the island nation.

“The Great Wall of Datekou. A certain group of individuals threw in their efforts to create this before the era of television and animation ended for good.”

Oikawa gazes at the carefully piled up wall with a complicated expression.

“By a ‘group of individuals’, you don’t mean—?”

Iwa chan’s grim nod says all.

“The long extinct otakus built this wall for people to remember them by.”

Oikawa points to red graffiti emblazoned in bold letters across the expanse of the junk-piled wall.

“Why does that German phrase talk about something as obvious as hunters and food?” the robot asks, naively.

Iwa chan absorbs the long repeated phrase that had been passed down in misguided wisdom for ages.

“Some may have built this wall to replicate a certain scene from their favorite show,” Iwa chan continues in the same sagely, resigned tone. “The true reason has faded, and now their descendants carry on their will to maintain their treasures—oi, don’t touch that!”

Oikawa pulls out a rusted figure of an idol in pink and pigtails. His eyebrow rises the more he turns it in his hands.

“So a bunch of NEETs threw their anime merchandise together to coincidentally make this wall that rivals an actual Wonder?” Oikawa whistles as he uses a sports jersey to wipe at the figure. “I’m impressed!”

 _Don’t be,_ Iwa chan wants to say. He’s interrupted by an avalanche of various sized Pokeballs tumbling down on the robot.

“Iwa-san!” A familiar voice calls out from above where he guesses the source of the avalanche came from.

“Iwa-chan, who is this mongrel that dares to sneak attack me?” Oikawa does not sound happy. He notes the robot struggling to get out of the pile of balls.

From under his hand, Iwa chan peers up at the figure weaving their way down the inclined slope toward them.

“Futakuchi,” he says, pleasantly surprised to see a known face.

Futakuchi Kenji approaches with a smile and glitter all over his face. He wonders how he didn’t notice him sooner because every time he moves the sun glances over Futakuchi’s cheeks straight into his retinas.

“Where’s Aone?” Iwa chan asks.

Futakuchi blinks, pointing over Iwa chan’s shoulder. “He’s right behind you.”

Iwa chan turns and jumps as he gets nose to nose with the maintenance repair bot himself.

“I told you we could look at Iwa-san’s bike later,” Futakuchi reprimands with a frown.

Aone grunts and stands beside him. With the two repair bots standing where he can see them, Iwa chan can help his robot out of the mess.

“We weren’t expecting you,” Futakuchi says after him, twirling a coat hanger in his hand idly. Aone watches Iwa chan free Oikawa of Pokeballs one by one.

“I had something to do last minute. I didn’t want to bug you guys.” Iwa chan throws a Pokeball too hard, and something flies out of it only to disappear into the piles and hidden spaces in the wall. “Stop touching the balls, Oikawa.”

“So your something is this high end Harukou robot?” Futakuchi smirks at Oikawa, who had withdrawn his hands when Iwa chan kept slapping them away.

Futakuchi captures his attention for the moment. Oikawa pushes Iwa chan aside and stands before the smirking, glittery repair bot with a hand on his hip, making his best condescending glare. Aone and Iwa chan watch as the two bicker like natural born enemies.

Iwa chan feels a tug at his shirt. He looks down at the fingers pinched in his Godzilla-print shirt, trailing his eyes up to the robot attached to it. Aone points to the motorbike, Datekou, and then Oikawa. Iwa chan understands without words.

“We’ll be quick.”

With a solemn nod, Aone steps between the robots, pushing aside Oikawa with reserve and shoving roughly at Futakuchi’s chin. The two bots make similar squawks of protest as they separate.

Oikawa lumbers to where Iwa chan waits on the bike, ready to go. Aone has Futakuchi by the scruff of his jumpsuit. The pair wave, still in the dust they kick up after them.

As they rumble by with a quickly tuned motor (thanks Aone, when did he tinker with it, Aone?), Iwa chan catches Aone’s mouth forming words. Though he doesn’t hear them, he can read lips. He finds his eyes widening in surprise, then steeling with determination a second later.

_Say hello to Shouyou for me._

“They seem like pleasant company,” Oikawa says against the wind whipping at their hair. Iwa chan doesn’t miss the sarcasm. “Mind explaining to me why I felt like I was being picked apart under their eyes? Especially Aone-chan. I’ve had humans and bots alike strip me with their gaze alone, but it felt like they were tearing me bolt by bolt.”

Iwa chan commends Oikawa’s skill at reading others without a word being said, even if it’s underhanded and had to have gotten him into trouble. “They’re the best and fastest mechanics in this region. They can disassemble the average android within minutes on a good day.”

Oikawa gulps, even though he doesn’t need to. He felt that nervous.

“They’ve...unplugged androids before?” he asks, a touch concerned.

“As I’ve said, they can but won’t unless they absolutely have to. It’s a principle not to kill one of your own kind, isn’t it?”

“That’s true.”

“Common sense, more like,” Iwa chan huffs.

Oikawa laughs, “You’d be surprised how awful people can be.”

It’s no laughing matter. Iwa chan is about to say so, lecture Oikawa to not  _say things like that_ , but the robot refuses to listen. Instead, he hums. Over the engine, he can’t hear it well, but the vibrations on his back convey it’s the song he’s been repeating when he’s deep in thought.

“What is that you’ve been humming the whole time?” Iwa chan says when he can nitpick the discrepancies of verses and melody being looped over and over.

“Is Iwa-chan curious about my lovely singing voice?” is the robot’s petty, carefully flippant answer.

“Oh no, don’t you dare avoid this.” Iwa chan lets a beat go by. “It’d do for you to answer _my_ questions once in awhile, however mundane they are.”

Oikawa stills in a way Iwa chan finds eerie and unsettling; it must be a robot thing, he thinks, to pause his breathing and lace iron in his limbs so that instead of _alive_ Oikawa becomes more like a _thing._ Iwa chan will never get used to it, hates the wrongness, the stiffness of Oikawa’s arms wrapped around his waist. He hopes Oikawa doesn’t make it a habit. It brings to mind of fruits too small for the height of the growing season and animals that couldn’t survive mother nature. Terrible, daunting realities flash before his eyes.

Oikawa must feel Iwa chan awkwardly shift in his seat. He returns sensation and motion to himself, pressing play when his body was previously on pause.

“ _'_ _To Tomorrow’_ is the name.” He blows air by Iwa chan’s nape, exasperation used as an act to cover whatever emotion Iwa chan might detect in his voice. “I’ll teach you the words.”

His meaning says a promise while the tightening of his arms indicate his uncertainty. _I’ll teach it to you if we’re together long enough for you to remember the song. If you remember me._

Who could forget the impossible, hardy, makes-everything-more-complicated-than-it-should-be existence that is Oikawa Tooru?

Good thing Iwa chan has already made it his life's mission to endure every obstacle and nude, mulish robot that fell his way.

"I really wanna bury you right now..."

"Why?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Asu e by Galileo Galilei (thanks for all the amazing songs they've done)
> 
> [blog](http://kamuwrites.tumblr.com/)


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